I was talking to a man in the pharmacy this week about this exact subject. Technology, and the fact that it makes the world so fast, and that our kids know nothing else.

I have had children in an age where everything we need is literally at our fingertips.

Music, photographs, groceries, any baby item we may need to purchase, the gym timetable (!), videos, the latest episode of Paw Patrol, or Peppa Pig on loop, all at the touch of a button or two on our phones.

Despite growing up without such luxuries, it is something that as an adult, I have become accustomed to. I don’t really have to make a lot go effort to access any information I need, and I get frustrated if I can’t get it it quicker than the few seconds of load time my current iPhone operates at.

It goes without saying then, that my children will know no different. They have only ever known me with a phone in my hand, tapping away sending messages, checking email, watching YouTube videos for some downtime, or checking Facebook. They don’t know the old version of me, where I actually went to a record shop to purchase music.

Having children in this world has meant that there have been quite a few helpful shortcuts in parenting. From even before you find out you are pregnant, there is no doubt that many women are on Google, checking when they should be ovulating via a number of online calculators, or checking out the symptoms of early pregnancy, even though I can’t imagine that there are many of us that don’t already know what these are! Then the moment arrives, you’re pregnant! Cue the downloading of one of the many available pregnancy apps, which detail what stage you are at, how you should be feeling, what you should be eating and even what your little fig looks like at 13 weeks.

Then pass months of checking out every twinge you have on every pregnancy page you can find, downloading books, the Mothercare app, and shopping for your forthcoming arrival.

Then the baby arrives, and those little pieces of technology really come into their own. There were nights where Lylah was screaming and screaming, and we didn’t know what to do. Do you know what I can remember from those nights? Chris hunched over a faint blue light on the edge of the bed, frantically Googling what to do with a 2 week old screaming baby who likely has colic.

The Mothercare app was a Godsend. Lylah fell asleep instantly to the hairdryer noise, and that soon became our go-to solution. Never mind singing lullabies, rocking her to sleep or anything else; we tapped the screen, let the hair dryer noise come out and watch her drift off to sleep. I discovered YouTube on our Smart TV and played white noise that way as well, meaning naps in the living room in her chair whilst I was able to do stuff in the rest of the house. It has come in handy the second time round as well, but with baby number 2 I found an app with an advanced feature. It switches on as soon as baby cries, and fades out again! Pure genius!

As Lylah has grown, her access to technology has only increased. TV watching (no matter how much I said before children that it would be rare occurrence) allows me to get some housework done. The smart TV means that I can access anything she wants on YouTube at any time. Sky Plus means box sets and instant downloading. If Lylah asks for something and I say sorry, it isn’t on at the moment, she says “but Mummy, just load it up!”

This terminology presented itself in normal conversation in the car yesterday. We were on our way to the shops, and she asked me whether we could play a game (where we pretend we are Anna & Elsa) when we were in the car and going. I said yes, but asked why we couldn’t play it while we were getting into the car? She said it’s because the game hadn’t finished “loading up”!

The other day, we were playing a game of musical chairs. She send she wanted to do the music, which was basically her singing a song. She said “the music is coming on” and pretended she was holding a mobile phone, tapped the screen and said “bleep”. My three year old thinks that music comes from a mobile phone! Which, in her world, it does.

As parents, we can control and monitor our children’s access to technology. Reading the above back to myself, it sounds like Lylah is constantly on some form of gadget, which actually isn’t the case. But is she familiar and aware of it? Yes, of course, because we live in 2016.

Yes, it would be good to slow down. Yes, it would be great to have more patience and not rely on technology for everything; that’s down to the individual to control. We need some balance, yes, between the world of everything being ‘right now’ on the other side of our phone screens, to playing outside in nature and forgetting what time it is.

Could I have brought children up without the helping hand of technology? Well, yes, people did, and I would have had to.

I have written before about how social media has turned us into a society of people who are constantly documenting our day to day lives, our most cherished moments, our big announcements & life-changing memories. We do this mainly through photographs, and use various Apps like Instagram and PicCollage to make sure every detail looks perfect.

I think we are now more than aware that it can be dangerous to take this too seriously, especially when viewing others lives through their Facebook feed, and more often than not through a rose-tinted (or in the case of my Instagram shots, a Valencia filtered) lens.

This trend is especially true of those with little ones. Cue lots of photos of kids with animals, children on days out, little angels grouped together on play dates, mummies & babies lunching. Not a snotty nose, grubby face or crying meltdown in sight. I am especially guilty of this, I am not writing a preachy post here, I hold my hands up and admit that when I look at photos I’ve posted of my two children, I get a little tingle of pride, and those photos represent great times and memories, and do a great job of erasing any bad moments we may have had on those particular occasions!

It used to bother me if Lylah wasn’t smiling perfectly at the camera, but now I’m used to having a temperamental three year old, it is something I’ve had to let go of. No more true than on Malachy’s Baptism Day, in the church, when all I wanted was ONE photo of us as a family, just Chris & I with our two babies. Lylah’s face says it all in the photo that I have proudly framed in my living room. I look at it now and chuckle, and still laugh about my nan plying her with sweets trying to get her to smile and stop wriggling to get down for one minute!

What I’ve started to see a little more of recently, is people posting more realistic photographs of their little ones. I’ve seen more crying in photos, more grumpy faces, and less of the “I will stand here as mummy told me to” type photograph. And it’s so refreshing to see!

Let’s take each occasion I mentioned above. In every one of these scenarios, as any one with children/or has hung out with children knows, there is often only one or two “perfect” moments!

Kids with animals = meltdown because they are scared of something and won’t go close enough to get into photo frame.

Children on Days out = many moments of screaming, tiredness, boredom…do I go on?

Little Angels grouped together on play dates = if you get this shot then you’re a miracle worker!

Mummies & Babies lunching = no sign of the food on the floor, the struggle of squeezing them into the unfamiliar highchair or the overpriced cake that has gone to waste!

Chris has been off this week, so we have and a few family outings and a little party at home for St Patrick’s Day. Cue lots of opportunities for cute photos as perfect mementos of our time spent together.

I’ve posted some beautiful photos on Facebook this week of my family, but what I haven’t posted are some of the classics on my camera roll, or documented the happenings around each shot!

First, there was our day out at an animal sanctuary, which overall Lylah loved. Lots of cute photos of Lylah looking angelic, but not one of her screaming whilst being chased by oversized Bantum Chickens! Or moaning for about 27 minutes because she was cold and she wanted to go home and watch Kinder Surprise on YouTube (don’t ask).

Then there was our day trip to the woods. There is a wooden carved chair at our destination that people often post photos of their children sitting on. I wanted this photo! Have a look at the camera roll evidence of Lylah’s progression into a meltdown. And the smile on my face moving slowly to a grimace! I also just about managed to save Malachy from being wheeled down the hill and off the edge.

Then there was St Patrick’s Day morning. I wanted a nice picture of the two of them in their green outfits, sat on a flag. Standard. These were just a few of what we had before I was happy!

The one where Lylah was squeezing Malachy in a head lock shortly led to him toppling backwards when she let go quickly, followed by 5 minutes of crying and snot and a puffy red face.

So, you can see, not all of life’s moments are filled with picture perfect memories, but they are memories all the same and make us what we are. It is okay to show people these, it might even make them feel a little more normal about their own lives.

We are going to Peppa Pig World tomorrow, and I promise that as soon as Lylah has any sort of meltdown I will photograph every moment of it, along with the bright backdrop of Peppa and George’s house and Mr Potato’s city, or whatever it is we are in store for!

All of that photo stress is so worth it though, when I get to capture my two looking like this…

P.S. I often find that bribing children with Kinder Surprises helps capture that perfect “smile”

They need you from the minute they wake up, until the minute their lights goes out, for a variety of reasons.

With Lylah these include; pulling up bottoms after a wee wee, cue “mummy, this is the hard bit!!”, making her breakfast (even though Miss Independent does get it all out and ready for me these days, she still hasn’t quite stretched to putting it all together, she is only 3 after all!), dressing her, plaiting her hair, helping her put Anna and Elsa’s dresses back on, (then off again, then on again), doing her puzzles, finding the lost parts of Sylvanian Families (they are soooo small!), writing letters, writing numbers, more post-toilet help…it goes on and on and on.

This all runs alongside Malachy also needing me, but needing me far more than Lylah does. From the minute he wakes up, he needs me for comfort, for milk, for basic hygiene, for breakfast, for playing, for moving…he’s a baby, you get it!

Often, all this neediness can get on top of you. Even though you know this motherhood lark is going to be demanding, you never quite realise it for real until its happening to you. And then you get a small segment of your day, where they are maybe both napping at the same time, and there is a fifteen minute period, where no one needs you for a moment. That moment goes far too quickly, though the rest of the day, somehow does not!

This all happens without thought. You don’t stop and think about your every action being crucial to your children’s happiness, development, health. You just do it, because, well, that’s what you signed up for.

Then there are times when they really need you. And this happened to me yesterday. It made me stop and think.

Malachy was feeling poorly, and had woken yesterday with a temperature, and after his afternoon nap, he was burning up again. After Calpol, and whilst I was waiting for it to kick in and cool him down, he just wasn’t a happy bunny. Nothing I did made him happier, and you realise, that although they really really need you, you don’t actually know what it is they need. After a long snuggly feed, he eventually rested his head against me, and I began to stroke his cheek until he fell asleep. After some tossing and turning to get into the exact right position for his maximum comfort, he finally fell into a deep sleep on me. Meanwhile, at the other end of the same sofa, I noticed that Lylah’s head was dropping up and down. Monster’s University just wasn’t entertaining enough, and the little lady was nodding off as well. I got her comfy as best I could with Mally lying on top of me, and they both slept like that for the next hour or so.

There wasn’t much I could do. I debated putting him back in his cot. But this was a different sleep. This was a sleep that was relaxed and comforted because he had fallen asleep on mummy. He was warm from my body and full from the warm milk he had just guzzled. I had made him feel better from whatever he was feeling a moment before. No, I thought, this sleep is for us. He wants to be comforted and to lie on mummy and cuddle in close. Lylah was comfortable and lying against my legs. I felt like I could burst with happiness, and was overwhelmed with a feeling of love. They both NEEDED me. Not in the usual, every day ways, but in their moment of tired, exhausted, poorlyness, I was needed to be a mummy, someone they could snuggle into to everything better.

Date of last post – 31st May! Oopsy – this blog posting malarkey hasn’t been a priority of late, but as I was sat pondering over recent events, it occurred to me that now was the perfect opportunity to update you all on what’s been going on.

To say we have been busy recently is a huge understatement. It has been a couple of months of firsts for Lylah, with lots going on including a very big family event – more to follow on that!

Being a working mum means that I am used to being apart from Lylah for a few days every week, but I still get to go home and put her to bed, and have some precious moments before she enters into her nighttime slumber.

So, three days away for my sister’s hen weekend back in June really didn’t worry me. In fact, as awful as it may sound, I was really really looking forward to the break. Jugglehood is extremely demanding, and as any mum, let alone working mum, knows, your time alone is precious, so even though I knew I would miss my baby, I looked upon the trip as a chance to unwind, have a drink and enjoy myself.

Sat on the the Eurostar on the way to Disneyland Paris, someone in the party asked me if I was missing Lylah yet. And then it hit me. My stomach churned and flipped, I felt sick, and I began to well up. Before I knew it I was practically sobbing into my Prosecco. From then on, I couldn’t even think about Lylah without crying. It was then I realised…even though we are desperate for a break, in need of a glass of wine and a dance with the girls, and for some time alone to recharge, any time without your offspring is like being temporarily detached from something. I felt Lylah’s absence the whole weekend. I missed her face, her voice, her crying, her whinging, and her giggling and laughing. I missed her clinging on to me and rubbing my chin, pulling my hair and giving me kisses. To go to bed at night and not have her there to say “night night” to felt so unreal.

Don’t get me wrong, I had a fabulous weekend, and I have to admit that the break did me the world of good. But it goes without saying that I missed my daughter and husband a huge amount – they are my life. I would rather be with them than anywhere else in the world, and that’s how I know i am the happiest when we are at home together, pottering about the house and garden, just being silly and having fun.

So that was mine and Lylah’s first weekend apart, and it was safe to say that she coped with it better than I did!

Another first was Lylah’s moment in the spotlight as a Flower Girl for her Aunty Kay Kay at Kayleigh and Adam’s wedding on Saturday. It was the proudest moment of my life. Not only was I overjoyed for my sister and her now husband, but it felt complete with my little family by my side. Chris, Lylah and I were all in the Wedding party, and I was so emotional about the whole thing! We had a fantastic day, and apart from a few thunder storms, Lylah having a tantrum about getting into the limousine and a little power failure, the day ran smoothly, and most importantly, was filled with love and happiness.

Lylah was brilliant all day, and looked like a princess in her dress; the perfect little maiden for my stunning little sister in her perfect gown. She ate lots of sweets, boogied on the chequered dance floor and stayed up late, and went down like a dream for the babysitter while mummy and daddy drank a little more and enjoyed the live band!

I am so proud of my daughter, and also for my husband and I, and in the same breath, for all the mummies and daddies out there, who work tirelessly through the first few, long hard months of sleepless nights, teething, juggling work and parenting. We are getting there, and moments like we enjoyed on Saturday make everything worthwhile.

Now for our next family adventure, a few days on holiday in Portugal. I’m sure that will make for an interesting next post!

I shared an article from The Guardian recently that provoked me to write about something that has long bothered me as a new mum.

The article, (read it here), talks about Peaches Geldof’s death, and the link that it perhaps has to her throwing herself into the ideal of motherhood. If a heroin overdose was the cause, we will likely never know why Peaches chose to take drugs in the presence of her baby, and more to the point, why she chose to go down this dangerous path of drug taking having thrown herself into this new life as a mummy, and having openly stated that motherhood had made her feel complete.

The article links her death to Peaches’ need to connect in someway to her own mother, and suggests that perhaps she struggled with the ideals of being the ‘perfect mum’, but was too afraid to admit it. Whatever the reasons, the article sparked some thoughts in my head that I have had for a while about the definitions of being a mum, and the pure pressures there are in today’s society surrounding mums and their babies.

When I found out I was pregnant, I had just under 9 months to prepare. My house was going to be the tidiest and cleanest it’s ever been. We’d save lots of money so I could have a full year off with our baby. I’d spend hours wondering what I’d be like as a mum, smugly thinking to myself that I’d be brilliant, and nurturing, and patient, and be able to survive on zero hours sleep, and wear my newborn in a sling whilst cooking and cleaning, like in that picture I saw of Kourtney Kardashian on Instagram.

And therein lies the problem. We set ourselves up to fail. Society sets us up to fail. The media and celebrities set us up to fail. And then we feel like failures, even though, really WE’RE NOT!

Lylah is now 16 months old, and every day brings something new that I worry about. The sleep situation is much better now, but for months on end I was constantly tired. I rarely get my hair done and it needs a good trim. And as for my house, well…

The truth is, I want other people to think that I am doing fine, and that I cope brilliantly, and that Lylah is the perfect baby, and that I am the perfect mummy to her. Social media is great for this. A few pictures of Lylah looking smiley, and me wearing a full face of makeup (a rarity these days), and you’d think that my house is full of smiles and giggles, and Lylah is the perfectly behaved child.

However, there are no photos of the grumpy days, the days when the toys are everywhere and the washing up hasn’t been done since the night before. There is no evidence of the constant struggle we’ve had with Lylah’s eczema, and the days that I’ve been in tears because she won’t stop scratching and she’s covered in sore patches. There are certainly no videos of my screaming, tantrumming baby, sprawled on the floor, crying and kicking because I’ve taken the biro off her (I’d rather you didn’t tattoo yourself Lylah). It’s unlikely that you’d find evidence of anything that was in anyway a little bit rubbish!

Scrolling through anyone with a baby’s newsfeed, and it’s likely to be the same story. Lots of lovely pics, no rubbish pics. And that’s fine, I get it, I’m fully with you. But the problem is, it sets us up to fail.

Every new mum says “no-one tells you what it’s really like”. BECAUSE IF THEY DID, YOU’D PROBABLY THINK REALLY REALLY HARD BEFORE HAVING CHILDREN AND CHANGING YOUR WHOLE LIFE FOREVER!

But it’s okay not to be perfect. I’m so lucky to have a group of friends, all with babies around Lylah’s age, who I can be really honest with. We’re all different mummies, with very different babies, but we’re all fundamentally the same, all struggling on with our little human beings, who are testing our patience and pushing us to our wits end, every single day.

I was recently chatting to a complete stranger in the hair salon (the one occasion I’ve been in there in the past 6 months). She also has a baby daughter, and we started chatting about baby things, as new mummies so love to do. It was refreshing to hear her say “I hope I don’t offend you if you are one of these mums, but I really don’t like the whole, going to every single mother and baby group, taking them to baby yoga, and hanging out with baby friends all day. Me and my baby are fine, she travels around with us, as we have to work away a lot, and she loves it”. Now, each to their own, and I do happen to LOVE hanging around with my baby friends, and taking her to play groups, but equally, I don’t think your a bad mother if you don’t do this!

if you are a mum, and you are feeling tired, drained, exhausted, impatient, ugly, chubby…then that’s good, because I do too!

Let’s stick together mummies, and pave the way for the new mummies of tomorrow. It is the hardest thing we will ever do, and we’re all amazing for doing it, no matter how we go about it. Let’s support anyone who is amazing enough to make the decision to become a mum, and most of all, let’s not judge them on how they do it.

I read the news about Peaches Geldof on Facebook last night. At first I thought it might be one of the fake death announcements that make their way around social media sites, but upon checking various news sites, I was shocked to discover it was, in fact, true.

Reading her father’s tribute made my stomach churn, then reading her husband’s brought about a feeling of such sadness for her beautiful little family, as well as the wider family she has now left behind, that I started to read more and more, trawling the internet and watching the news.

The news of Peaches’ passing has affected me in a way that I would never have imagined. I’m not a fan, I don’t follow her on social media, but I did recently watch the YouTube clip of her eloquently talking about attachment parenting on This Morning, defending her parenting skills to Katie Hopkins, and opening up about her family and her relationship. This side of Peaches was one that I admired, I had no real interest in her or her media presence before, but now she was relevant to me and my life, because we were both going through the same thing; Motherhood.

All of last night, I kept thinking about her two little boys, wondering where their mummy is, and the lump in my throat started to form. Some may think I’m being a little dramatic, after all, it is quite obvious that I don’t know her personally, but any mother, in fact, anyone with a heart, reading about yesterday’s tragedy was bound to feel some sadness and grief at this young girl’s passing.

All day, I have felt extremely anxious. Last night, I cried whilst looking through very recent pictures and videos of Peaches with her two sons on Twitter and Instagram. Crying? Yes, I was shedding a tear. For the extreme sadness I felt that this young woman won’t see her beautiful sons grow up. She won’t witness them starting school. She won’t ever again tuck them into bed. Nor will they ever be able to go to their mummy again when they are sad, frightened, hungry or thirsty. Looking through her pictures, I noticed similarities between our homes and daily routines. In the background of one photos sat the Fisher Price Jumperoo. Lylah spent hours in that thing; her boys must as well. She had videoed them in the bath, taking pictures of them splashing around and blowing bubbles. There were selfies, pictures of the pets and endless pictures of her smiling happy children. Yes, she was the daughter of Paula Yates and Sir Bob Geldof, yes she was a wild child teenager, yes she was a celebrity. But, most importantly, she was a mother, and that’s the part I can relate to.

The reaction to her death by some has astounded me, and that people can be so cruel and vile in these circumstances is astonishing to me. As some people have rightly said, things like this happen every day, and I’m fully aware that situations like this occur all the time without our knowledge. But she was in the public eye, therefore we do know about this one, and therefore it has provoked this reaction in me.

The thought of knowing that any family has to go through something like this is so upsetting, and when Lylah woke up this morning and cuddled me in bed, I was so thankful to God for my precious family, loved ones, and the small but important things in life. In a week where my parent’s have had sad news about the passing of a close family friend, the tragic story of a woman being knocked down and killed in a local town, and the untimely death of someone like Peaches, so young and in her prime with her whole motherhood and life ahead of her, I am very aware of the short time we have on this earth, and that we waste too much time sweating the small stuff.

Grab your loved ones, give them a hug, tell them you love them and be thankful for every second you spend together. Life is too short.

My Blog posts have been waning of late, and what’s my excuse? Oh yes, I’ve been busy! I never wanted blogging to become a chore, or something that I have to keep up, more of something that allows me to sit with my thoughts and a laptop, and find five minutes of peace whilst furiously tapping out paragraphs, that you kind and lovely people then read. Insert smiley face emoticon here, as that makes me very happy.

I’ve been asked by a few people in the last week where my next post is, so for those who asked, and also for those that didn’t, here it is…

I think as life goes on, and I get older, it’s too easy to let yourself fall into a daily routine, which slowly becomes a bit of a rut, that you then find yourself struggling to get out of. When you become parents, that tends to happen to an even bigger degree, and although you’re life is fulfilled in so many more ways, there are times that you crave to something beside sing “the wheels on the bus” for hours on end!

I’m lucky enough to have lots of very talented friends, and one of these friends is doing some really good work for a local charity, Stand Against Violence. She has set up an organisation called the Inspiring Social Innovation Society. She came to me a couple of months back and asked if I would get involved and chair the series of debate nights they are holding for the next year. I instantly said yes, but inside I was nervous that I was committing myself to something else in my already very busy and filled life, and worried that I wouldn’t be able to commit the time and energy it would need. But when I thought about it more, it’s one night every month, where I can go and help others, and in this case, support a charity that is doing some great work in inspiring young people, and now with a baby of my own, I also have a vested interest in the future of our local society, and how it will be for the future of our children.

So, the day came where I had to go and do something important. I was nervous about having to chair, to stand up in front of people and talk, and deliver a professional performance, and I was also very nervous about the impending interview I would have to do with Jeremy Browne MP.

I had been out all day with my mum and Lylah (wedding outfit shopping for mummy – that’s a different blog post all together!), and arrived back to my house running late, feeling flustered, and worrying about what I would wear! I had an idea in my head, my go to black dress…the one that didn’t do up the last time I tried it. But I have lost a few pounds, and I’m sure I could squeeze into it….

No such luck. My mum and my nan tried every effort to get that zip up, but it wouldn’t budge. Good job really, I probably would’ve passed out and fallen on Jeremy.

I opted for a black skirt with top and jacket. I looked smart, but felt so overdressed and a little bit old! I knew there would be lots of trendy young people there, but I was running out of time, and didn’t have any other outfit options, so off I went!

My heart was beating fast when I arrived and I felt a little bit sick. Like that feeling when you arrive back at school after the holidays! I don’t know why! I’m 30 years old and a fairly confident person, but I hadn’t done anything like this in ages!

The people at the Inspiring Social Innovation Society are amazing, a mix of talented young people working really hard to put on events and inspire kids to come and have a voice. The team were really friendly and I instantly felt at ease. Plus Mel was there, and she’s one of my best friends, one of those ones who always makes you laugh, every time you see them, and although we were being professional, this time was no different!

When Jeremy arrived, I introduced myself and instantly felt on form. I had prepared the interview and planned the debate layout, I was feeling ready. The interview went really well, and the following debate was fantastic. To see young people ask questions about some real and current issues to members of various authorities was so inspiring, and I couldn’t help thinking just how proud of Lylah I’d be if she turned out like any of these young adults in front of me.

I came away from the event feeling refreshed. I had used my brain, interviewed a politician, chaired a debate, talked about police and crime with members of various crime services, and most of all, I feel like I’d contributed just a tiny little bit towards something that is doing amazing things for young people.

If you are ever feeling like you’re in a rut, get out and do something. Whatever it is, do it for yourself. Get yourself away from your every day and challenge yourself. For a moment, be someone else, an extension of yourself as a mother/partner/office worker/whatever that may be. Go for a run, join an evening class, read a new book, do something for charity or learn a new skill. It doesn’t have to change the world, but it will help. Believe me.

This next post comes with a warning. I suppose it would be a PG. Literally, Parental Guidance. Or Potential of Goo. Or Poo & Grossness.

Do not read on if you are squirmish and/or are thinking about having a baby.

Or do, because it would tell you a few things that people failed to tell me before I had one!

This evening, at around 6:15, I watched as my beautiful, angelic faced, sweetheart of a daughter, squatted on her chubby little legs whilst fully naked in the bath, and squeezed out around 5 gobstopper sized balls of poo. Into the bath water. I then proceeded to watch my husband scoop each little ball out with his bare hands, scrabbling after them as they floated around the bath and Lylah’s bum, trying to escape his grasp.

That was the first time Lylah pooed in the bath, and it was hilarious! I thought the whole thing was very funny, as did Chris, and we chuckled as we continued to bathe her and commented on how comical this little episode was. Lylah looked rather pleased with herself and squealed with delight as the floaters (actually, they started to sink a bit) were extracted, and she splashed around with her bath toys. We were both just so relieved that it was a rather solid form of poo, as opposed to some of her other nappy delights.

No one warns you about this. No one tells you just how much poo and puke and saliva and goo and food that you are continuously up to your eyes in.

Your baby enters this world in a state of gooey delight, covered in blood and other stuff (ewww), and is quickly dried off with a blanket and given to you to cuddle, kiss and caress. Which of course you do, because this is your baby, your own flesh and blood, and so it doesn’t matter how icky and sticky they are, you just don’t care about that stuff anymore.

In their first few weeks, to give them their credit, they do live up to the cute, sweet smelling stereotype that newborns have become famous for. All of their new clothes smell of fresh linen after you’ve spent hours getting them all prepared in the last few weeks of maternity leave, the nursery is spotless, and there isn’t a yellow coloured poo stain in sight! Oh how that changes.

Also, the content of adult conversation is taken to a whole different level. As new parents, there is a new, untouched layer of dialogue, where it is suddenly okay to talk about colours/textures/contents of poo, the pattern of today’s nappy changes and the ever-changing milk production of your boobs. And, in a ground-breaking revelation to you all (I can’t believe I’m about to tell you this) we have been known to snap a picture of said nappy contents, and send it to each other, along with a comment like “third one of the morning, that was the big dinner she ate last night!” Yes, we are those parents now, the ones who take delight in discussing their children’s toilet habits with each other/other people/anyone who will listen.

We have had too many disgusting baby poo/goo/puke/food incidents to write about them all, but here are a few of my favourites:

Projectile Poo (PP) – Lylah was amazing at these. One lift of her legs during a nappy change and she took the opportunity to point and shoot, spraying anything in it’s line of fire with a mustardy coloured, milk infused shot of runny poo. The best one was when Chris and I were once changing her nappy together. It was almost like she wanted to put on a bit of a show for us, so she took it to the next level. She aimed for the wall, and she got the bullseye! Thank goodness for wipe over wallpaper and paint – it was quickly removed with no stain in sight, thank goodness! We had a number of these incidents, and they normally resulted in either Chris or I being covered in the stuff, or it would lead to another of her baby vests becoming victim of another PP episode. Vanish became my new best friend, but sometimes, when the PP was just too much for me to handle, the vests just went to baby vest heaven, along with the other victims of PP attacks, including baby grows, trousers and tights. Sad face.

Va Va Vom – Vomit/sick/puke/”spit up”. Always gross, always smelly, and ALWAYS ON ME. Lylah was a sicky baby. She puked a lot. In the early days (first six months or so) I was continually covered in baby sick, constantly covered in muslin cloths, and probably smelled pretty horrible all of the time. It got to the point where I would leave the house knowingly covered in baby sick. If it were pointed out by anyone I would laugh and say, “oops, I didn’t realise that was there!” But I did realise, and the reason I didn’t get changed is because it would just have happened again, and again, and again.

Dribble – this one isn’t so bad. Babies dribble… It’s the dribbling on mummy’s face that is a bit grosser, and giving mummy kisses and dribbling on her mouth, and dribbling on her new shirt, and dribbling on anything and everything that they can get their squidgy little hands on! As a mother, you get used to this. You eat their saliva covered left over biscuit, because it doesn’t matter to you – they came out of you for goodness sake! I used to laugh at Chris because he would never eat from Lylah’s spoon if it had her baby goo on it. That has changed now, he’s got used to it, and Chris rightly states, “you can never see food go to waste”, and so polishing off her Weetabix in the mornings now isn’t a problem for him!

Food – Weaning is an amazing time. You get excited about buying the necessary bits and bobs, you make up some purees, you give them some finger foods. The natural thing is to eat when you’re hungry, so you imagine that your little munchkin will polish up whatever you put in front of them, leaving no trace in sight. No no no. This is the MESSIEST time. Lylah’s high chair is constantly covered, I’m always finding food in places that I haven’t even given it to her, and once again, mummy’s clothes fall victim to the baby shot-put tryouts.

So…Enjoy the short spell when your babies smell of babies, and the rare occasions that they are asleep, clean and dry all at the same time, because mostly babies are smelly, messy and overall pretty gross!

In the spirit of sharing, it would be great if you could share your MOST disgusting baby poo/puke/goo stories with me. Just comment below on this blog post, and tell all!

Certain that I was right and that mum must have misheard, when I got home that evening I asked Chris if he was, as I thought, at home tomorrow. “Stop winding me up”, he said.

“I’m not!” I replied, “I genuinely thought you were home, so who is looking after Lylah?!”

And there it was, the first time that our well worked out, so far so good, daily working parents routine, became not quite so well worked out. I was so annoyed at myself for letting this happen (control control), yet still convinced I was right!

I recently acquired us a family planner, to stop this kind of thing happening. I’m always double booking things and forgetting to send cards, so laying it all out on one page, one month at a time, means there is no excuse!

I saw Chris walking over to the planner, and inside I’m secretly hoping that it states that tomorrow, he is in fact off, and that this is his mistake. But no, there it was, a blank little space on tomorrow’s date. Chris looked at me, all smirky with an “I told you so” written all over his face…ugghh!

Luckily for us, we have a fantastic support network; family who will have Lylah at the drop of a hat, and help us out whenever we need. I called my mum and she immediately agreed to having Lylah again. Phew!

I’d organised a couple of weeks ago to have some dinner out with my friends from work, Holly and Kelly, after all, if I’m doing the long drive to get there, I want to make the most out of it, and have some me time with the girls when I can. I don’t feel guilty about this; it’s so important that mummies get that time to themselves, after being everything they can be for their children.

The next chapter of the childcare saga came this morning just before Chris left for work. “Bye love. Oh, I’m on the late tonight.”

“What?!?” So, he wasn’t going to be able to be back on time to collect Lylah, and I was meant to be going out. Holly had moved her personal training session to a whole other night, so I can’t let them down now!!

Umm, I don’t actually think I’d communicated my evening’s plans with Chris, so once again #mummyfail…

Again, mum to the rescue! Upon dropping off Lylah, she happily agreed to take her for few hours longer, even taking my house key so she could bring her home, get her ready for bed at the normal time, and then wait for one of us to return to our parental duties!

So, why do I feel bad? Well, I’d noticed a missed call from my mum when I left Bristol, so I called her back. She didn’t know how to put the heating on, so she had been sitting in the cold since 7pm, and it was now 8:15. She was sitting in her coat, and she really wanted to go to Sainsburys.

Luckily, Chris was nearly home, and she got away after a long 11-hour day looking after our little girl. And for that I’m so thankful. So today’s post is dedicated to everyone that helps us with Lylah, so that Chris and I can continue to work and so that I can have some occasional me time. We thank Mum, Dad, Nan and Granddad who all have Lylah week in, week out, and anyone else who helps us out whenever they can. We couldn’t do it without you.

In the 13 months that we have had Lylah, Chris and I have always tried to maintain the idea that we can still do things like lunches out/family dinners/any nice occasion that you used to enjoy without a baby. There are the obvious ones that are a no go – the pub, cocktail bars and Las Vegas holidays being among them. Then there are the ones that a baby should be able to fit into quite easily. After all, there are lots of “family-friendly” places to go now, with all the bits and bobs you need, and if they don’t have them, well, you simply bring them along with you in your ten bags.

It is a Sunday afternoon in our house, daddy is relaxing and dozing on the sofa, Lylah is content with her big teddy, plastic carrot and apple and watching her favourite cartoon (lay off judgy people), and I’m sat typing this (don’t worry judgys, I will play with her shortly). However, today has not been this chilled out until pretty much now. We have just returned from a birthday lunch out, and as it traumatised me slightly, I thought I’d write about it.

I think today was the day when I realised I don’t have a baby anymore. I now have a full blown, tantrummy, whirlwind of a toddler. She is only 13 months, and I think it’s unfair that this has happened to me. They’re not meant to be terrible until they’re 2!! Did she turn 2 and I miss it? Has there been some kind of weird time travel event that passed me by while I was up to my eyes in baby washing last week? I look at Lylah now, and I don’t see a baby, I see a little girl. She is so determined and knows exactly what she wants, how she wants it, and most importantly mummy, WHEN she wants it! I read a great blog by Renegade Mothering (check it out, it’s brilliant) about her feeling awful about being judgy wudgy about screaming toddlers. She says how she always thought, after having a couple of lovely quiet ones, that there must be some pattern of awful parenting that leads to a toddler throwing a tantrum in public. Well, I’m ashamed to admit, that I probably thought the same thing in my old life. I used to think that I would be so calm and lovely and zen-like, that any baby of mine would be an angelic blob of loveliness, playing happily, giggling and eating everything I served up neatly and within seconds of me placing it in front of her.

How wrong was I? Lylah does play happily…once a day for about 30 seconds. She also giggles a lot, which is very cute, but is almost always accompanied by us having an energy fuelled play session in the house along with every toy she owns, lots of music, and me making endless funny faces and noises. She doesn’t/hasn’t ever/will probably never sit and eat quietly/happily/cleanly.

Chris and I got into the car after a traumatic couple of hours, looked at each other, and gave each other a high 5. A high flippin’ 5! That’s how proud of ourselves we were just to get through it. Lylah stared at us from the back seat with her grumpy little face wondering what all the fuss was about. Well Lylah, let me tell you…

We arrived having had a pleasant morning so far. Dressed in your gorgeous frock, purple patents and a clip in your hair, you napped in the car (perfect!) and woke with a smile on your face. Yes! Upon entering the venue, you had a look round, stared at a few people, and gradually felt happy enough to get down and explore. You drank some juice, sat in a big chair and were in a generally good mood.

I was slightly worried about the next bit. As you hate sitting in your high chair, I thought we may have a bit of trouble with you sitting in a chair contraption at the big table. You hated it at first, screaming every time we tried to pop you in, and stiffening those chubby little legs of yours. Eventually, you decided that you would sit down, happily munching on a bread stick from each hand, then grabbing the big spoon and banging it on the table for the next 15 minutes. I’m sure everyone was thrilled with your musical accompaniment Lylah; you have a talent! We took this opportunity to feed you some beef mush, which you liked, so phew! After nearly choking yourself with the chair’s straps by slipping down so far they came up to your neck, daddy took you outside. The resulting encounter with a peacock was just too much for you to bear, so I was surprised to see you return to me with a big smile on your face! The next hour and half was filled with you wanting to get down, then wanting to get up and running around the table to escape the party to explore the other rooms. You screamed when daddy lifted you and shouted when mummy sat you on her lap. You wouldn’t drink from your water bottle, but made every attempt possible to drink from an actual big person’s water receptacle.

I’m thankful we were sat with other mummies and babies, and so they would (hopefully) understand what we were going through. Their babies were being superbly well behaved, but they are not yet at toddler terror stage, so I told myself that if Lylah was still 8 months old, she would have been fine today. Thinking back, I’m not sure how much truth there is in that, but ah well!

We were also sat next to a pregnant lady and her husband, and with 4 weeks to go, I’m sure they are filled with excitement and anticipation at the arrival of their bundle of joy. I really hope that sitting next to us for 2 hours hasn’t scared the living daylights out of them.

In a tag team effort, we got through the rest of the lunch, and now I’m sat on a sofa (you hopefully now understand why we need this moment of calm), and thinking about it with hindsight, she wasn’t actually that bad. Anyway, she wasn’t bad at all, she was simply being a toddler. An exploring, curious, eager, determined, clever little girl who is excited at the world around her and despises highchairs, confinement and straps. Thank you Jamie, Adele and Brody, and your family and friends for having us today, and I apologise for the spoon banging.